


Of Covert Strings, Sticky Dots, and Closet Space

by Diary



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship/Love, Insecurity, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, POV Oliver Hampton, Relationship Negotiation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: An AU look at Connor and Oliver going from friends-with-benefits to boyfriends from Oliver's POV. Complete.Excerpt: This is the problem with having no-strings attached sex with a hot guy who likes to covertly wrap strings around people when he needs or wants something.
Relationships: Oliver Hampton/Connor Walsh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	Of Covert Strings, Sticky Dots, and Closet Space

_I’m sick. Don’t come over._

He wouldn’t be surprised if Connor didn’t get the text, especially with the fact Connor has a piece of crap flip-phone that Connor refuses to even let him update, but the fact Connor has a bag of egg drop soup suggests Connor did, in fact, get the text.

“Okay, look, seriously, I feel way too bad to do anything sexual. Bribing me with delicious smelling soup isn’t going to work.”

There’s a flash of surprise, but then, Connor’s grinning his stupid, mouth-quirking grin that makes his eyes look even more mischievous than normal, and he wonders if he really is too out of it to give a handjob. Anything else, no, there’s too much effort involved and/or his aching, stuffy-all-over body would register genuine pain, but-

“One, if I were the type to try to coax sex out of people, I wouldn’t use soup to try to soften your resistance. Two, I’ve had my flu-shot, and so,” Connor manages to get past him, “being around you should be okay, but there’s a big difference between being in the room with someone sick and having sex with them.”

“This isn’t the flu,” is what comes out.

He’s not having the best time getting words and thoughts to synch up and come out the way he intends.

“If something else is going around, I’d rather get it now, from you, than some idiot classmate. You should close the door. Do you want tea or hot chocolate?”

Connor has set the food down on the coffee table. Connor is now in his kitchen.

He doesn’t think this is a fever dream, but if it is, he’d like to know what point exactly his subconscious is trying to get across. Probably that having a friends-with-benefits relationship with a hot lawyer-in-training who unashamedly used him to get confidential information for a case is only going to end in confusion and heartbreak, in which case, yeah, thanks, he knows this.

Once upon a time, he would have cared, but Connor was the first man who didn’t even blink at finding out he’s HIV positive.

This, as his brain has assaulted him with numerous times, definitely says _something_ questionable about Connor, but Connor’s never objected to condom use or producing the routine test results saying he’s still clean, and he’s seen enough to know Connor’s claim of being on PrEP is true.

“Just some Gatorade is fine.”

“You need something warm.”

“The soup is warm.”

“Trust me, a cold drink with hot soup isn’t going to do your body any favours. Tea or hot chocolate?”

“You know what, I don’t care. Whichever is easiest.”

Making his way over to the couch, he digs the soup out to cradle it in his hands.

He doesn’t fall asleep, but soon, he’s coming into awareness of: Connor has gotten his blanket from the bedroom, made both hot chocolate and tea, and is taking the carton from him.

Opening it, Connor hands it back with a spoon. “Here. I know, using Western utensils, even though I still question whether silverware is a purely Western invention, is an insult of some kind to other Asian cultures, but make an exception, okay? Otherwise, you’re probably going to end up feeding your carpet.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you? I was drunk.”

Shrugging, Connor leans back with his typical amused, devil-may-care expression.

“Why are you here?” Comes out before he can decide whether he really wants to go down that road or not.

“I told you, if something is going around, I’d rather get it watching TV with you than from some classmate sneezing on me during our trial prep. And I don’t really have anything else better to do. So,” Connor produces the remote, “what are we watching?”

“ _You_ don’t have anything better to do?”

Connor loves the nightlife. Any party or event Connor is at has no chance of ever being boring.

“Well, if you weren’t sick, I would. I definitely would.”

“Okay. Um, look, I know we have a tendency to hook-up every Friday, and I know I- was irrational the last time you cancelled, but you really don’t need to be here. I promise I won’t be irrational about it this time.”

Whatever reaction he expected, it wasn’t Connor rolling his eyes.

“Hey, if you want me gone, Ollie, say the word. But otherwise, I’m here, because, no, I don’t have anything better to do. With all the work we’ve been doing for Professor Keating’s trial, staying out until five has started to get to me.”

“Blowing off steam with you and going to sleep at a semi-reasonable hour has done wonders. Which, by the way, if you don’t want me sleeping in bed with you tonight, I understand, but if I’m going to sit through whatever ridiculous Lifetime movie you pick, then, I’m sleeping here. Trust me, no one wants me on the road while I’m thinking of how unfair it is that someone in my future profession will never make the sort of money-”

“Here.” He hands the remote back. “You brought soup and made me tea and hot chocolate, and I really just want to zone out while I concentrate on them. So, just pick something with no explosions or loud music.”

Taking off his glasses, he enjoys the steam from the food and beverages until they cool down enough to eat, and he discovers Connor added milk to his tea. It’s not a perfect mixture, but the thought definitely counts; he didn’t even know Connor knew he drank his tea like this.

The movie is largely quiet, and one of the characters has a nice, soothing voice, though, with all the highly technical terms she uses, he has no idea what she’s actually saying for most of the time she talks.

Looking over, he sees Connor is drinking Gatorade. “There’s beer in the fridge. And hey, did you eat? I don’t think- you didn’t bring anything for you.”

“I ate before I came, and this is good.”

He goes back to concentrating on the warmth and soothing voice.

“Hey, come on, Oliver.”

He feels himself being moved.

“Let’s get you to bed. Do you need to take any medicine before you go to sleep?”

“No. You could take the bed. Couch is fine.”

“Come on.” Connor continues to guide him. “Are you sure? What about your-”

“I take everything I need in the morning. Hey, did you eat? Or-”

“We’ve had this conversation. I’m taking your shirt off.”

Feeling it come off, the unwelcome cold is quickly replaced by his warm blanket.

…

He wakes up feeling vaguely more human.

On the nightstand is a bottle of water and a sticky note declaring that Connor has his key.

He starts making breakfast, and he’s halfway done when a sweat-soaked Connor lets himself in. “Laurel just called. I need to go shower and change. Maybe it’s time you make some room in your closet for some of my stuff.”

Despite the fact he’s still a little blegh feeling, Connor looks good enough he’s a little disappointed Connor’s been called in. He might be up for-

The rest of the words hit him.

“Oh, no. No. That’s too much like, uh, a couple and commitment and- stop laughing.”

Coming over, Connor kisses his forehead. “Think you’re going to feel up to trivia night?”

Somehow, going to this nearby bar every Sunday to compete in trivia night has become a thing. Connor, of course, flirts with every halfway attractive guy, regardless of marital status or sexual orientation, but despite this, most of the other regulars have become convinced they’re an actual couple.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be over this by then.”

…

“I’m a lawyer.”

“You’re a law student, and knowing the names of legal briefs isn’t the same as taking, and then, tutoring in Latin.”

Kellie, a little roly-poly teenager who usually ends up at their table, gives them her (she should take Connor up on his offer to get it) patented look of, ‘You people should not exist.’

To her credit, though, ‘you people’ is not gays. It’s the dumbass adults who once screwed up the last question and, thus, lost her the prize of the bar owner’s heavenly chocolate-raspberry cake.

Connor hadn’t helped by pointing out she would have had to split it with them anyways.

According to her logic of why she should have gotten the whole thing: They can buy cake whenever they want. She cannot buy beer. Or decent cake, for that matter, but also, since the prizes are usually alcohol based, having to settle for free soda and, occasionally, a basket of fries gives her automatic rights to any non-alcoholic, non-soda, non-fries prizes.

Now, he’s terrified she’s going to figure out which car is Connor’s one of these nights, and Connor actively picks arguments with her so that he can breakdown exactly why her arguments would fail in a court of law.

He’s pretty sure she could successfully convince the police that no, she had absolutely nothing to do with Connor’s vandalised car.

“It’s from The Handmaid’s Tale,” she announces as she hits the bell.

She’s right.

Both of them were wrong, but he was definitely closer than Connor was.

“What happened to waiting until we’re all in agreement before hitting the bell,” Connor inquires in his deceptively smooth lawyer voice.

This voice has never and will never work on the moody teenage girl who does not have a crush on Connor and is legitimately probably going to take a chair to Connor’s car one of these days.

“A news report about your boss’ trial interrupted the show I recorded, so, I know that she has a bad habit of speaking up when she’s not supposed to.”

“Only a little part of that is true. Professor Keating isn’t technically my boss. She does, however, have a habit of speaking up when it’s necessary. That’s a good habit.”

“I’m not sure-” He feels compelled to say.

“Oliver here secretly agrees with me, but he’s afraid of us corrupting your developing moral worldview.”

“Shut up, no, I’m not.”

“Besides that, I know what the news reports about this trial said, and that wasn’t part of it. You’ve been reading about the trial. Not that that really matters, I guess, but maybe work on your lying. The point is, if you’d been wrong-”

“There was no lie. Yeah, I’ve been reading about the case. I guess I just got where exactly I learned what mixed up. And since this was the last question and table 3 already had ten points on us, even if I had been wrong, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“We would have lost second place if you’d been wrong.”

“Which would have been such a big lose for both of us seeing as how he,” she gestures to him, “is the only one who’d get the free glass of beer.”

“Actually, I’m the only one. Since I was the designated driver last week, this week is his turn.”

She gives them both an appalled look. “You’re going to let him drive your car?”

“Hey!” He can’t help but protest.

“Sorry, nothing personal meant, but if I had a car, no one would ever drive it but me.”

Connor looks ready to say something, but then visibly changing his mind, he stands up. “I’ll go get that beer. What about you two?”

“I’ll just have another mineral water, thanks.”

She gives her soda order.

…

After Kellie gets on her bus, they walk back to the bar.

“For the record, I took Latin, too.”

“You took Latin, because, you wanted to trade blowjobs with a boy in the class.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t absorb more than-”

Rolling his eyes, he lightly shoves at Connor. “I was clearly closer to the right answer than you were.”

Wrapping an arm over his shoulder, Connor kisses his cheek. “The only reason I’m not arguing is I want to crash at your place tonight.”

“I really don’t mind driving you home.”

“I’m okay to drive.” Tossing him the keys, Connor continues, “I won’t try, because, I know how you’d get, but give me an hour or two, and I’d be safely below the legal limit. I just don’t want to go home. The thing about working on a big trial is: The other students involved end up knowing where you live.”

…

Taking off his glasses, he lies down, and Connor immediately wraps around him.

It feels really good.

It’s not going to last, and this severely dampers the feelings of goodness.

He should have insisted on driving Connor home, but even if he had, Connor probably would have convinced him to stay there, and if not, he’d still need to go get Connor in the morning so that Connor could get his own car.

“I can feel you thinking,” Connor mumbles. “Must be off my game.”

Remembering the shower, he comes close to laughing.

Connor is most definitely not off his game.

“You’re not off your game. A lot of times, I just spiral through my thoughts and anxieties before falling asleep.”

Making a vague sound, Connor somehow presses even closer against him.

Trying his best to shut off his thoughts so that he can focus solely on the good feeling, he feels himself slipping into sleep.

…

It’s three something in the morning.

Connor is going to die for calling him this early. He’s not sure how he’s going to get away with murdering a law student who’s helping on a big, televised-worthy trial, but-

“Unless you’re dying, in which case, you should have called 911-”

“There’s a gas leak at my apartment building. I’m outside your door.”

“Just a minute.”

Hanging up, he manages to make it to the door without hurting himself or breaking anything. Connor’s a blur, should have grabbed his glasses, but Connor’s kiss is a mixture of soft and sharp, undeniable, immediately identifiable.

“You couldn’t have gone to one of your- one of the K4 or whatever?”

“K5. Two straight guys, one of whom has a serious girlfriend, a girl whose ex-fiancé is a sort of ex-boyfriend, and Laurel’s been staying over with her boyfriend a lot lately.”

“Okay, I’m going to come back to that ex-fiancé who’s sort of an ex-boyfriend later. When I’m not still half-asleep. For now: What about the straight guy who doesn’t have a serious girlfriend?”

“Asher. Trust me, if you ever meet Asher, it won’t take more than ten minutes to understand why me saying that is enough.”

“Alright. Look, you can stay for now, but you need to find somewhere by -tonight? Tomorrow? Oh, whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

He must have dozed back off, because, he wakes back up to the feeling of Connor slipping into bed beside him.

…

For some reason, Connor’s bamboo toothbrush and fluoride-free toothpaste is surprising.

Opening the cabinet, he sees his pill organiser has been covered in sticky dots with his name.

Before he can truly get into wondering why Connor felt the need to do this, he sees that Connor also has a pill organiser. It’s a different model and colour, but still, Connor has put different coloured sticky dots with Connor’s own name on it.

“You take medication? I mean, besides PrEP?”

“Adderall. And a multivitamin”

“That-” Explains a lot, he realises. “Coffee. I need coffee.”

Connor has made coffee. Connor has made breakfast.

Connor is making it really hard for him to continue plotting Connor’s murder.

Once he’s more awake, however, he realises Connor has brought a literal suitcase and box of personal items. “I meant what I said. You’re not staying here tonight.”

“Oliver. Come on.”

“No. You don’t get to give me that look and say my name like that. If there was a gas leak here, I wouldn’t go to your place at three in the morning with a suitcase and box.”

“Why not?”

Because, there’s an incredibly high chance Connor would have a- someone there. That he was having sex with, had had sex with, or was about to have sex with.

Unlike him. He doubts Connor even stopped to consider he might’ve had someone inside.

“We’re not boyfriends. Okay, admittedly, I haven’t been dating much recently, but I could find someone today that I really liked and want to invite him over tonight. And I don’t have a problem with you having sex with whoever, I don’t, but also, I really don’t want you and some stranger having sex in my apartment. The only sex I want happening here is the kind that involves me.”

“If I say anything about a threesome, you’re going to throw me out right now, aren’t you?”

He’s tempted, but Mrs Ali is going to be leaving with her granddaughter soon, and for an old Muslim woman, she’s a lot less judgemental about him being gay than he expected. The least he can do is not force a half-naked Connor out when her eight or nine-year-old granddaughter might witness it.

“Do yourself a favour and don’t.”

Nodding, Connor continues eating. “How bout this? If you find someone, text me, and I’ll find somewhere else to hang out until you’re done. And I’ll promise not to bring anyone here. The fact you have the only key should make that easy enough to trust.”

“No. What if I want this hypothetical guy to stay the night?” A thought hits him. “And you could easily get another copy of the key. I can think of several ways you could.”

A normal person would look offended.

Connor’s look is impressed and full of a familiar but still powerful heat that he has to struggle not to squirm at.

“I haven’t made any copies, and I won’t. Ollie, please, I need a place that’s familiar and comfortable and won’t cost me hundreds of dollars a night. I’ll help pay for groceries for the week.”

He almost asks: You seriously don’t have anyone else you can stay with for a few nights?

It’s not as if he has any close friends or nearby family, either. He likes most of his co-workers, but he wouldn’t show up at any of their houses or apartments if he suddenly needed a place.

Connor could find plenty of men willing to let him stay the night or more, but the fact Connor isn’t using sex in that way is something that should probably be encouraged.

“Fine,” he sighs. “But you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Giving him an incredulous look that borders strangely close to hurt, Connor asks, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. We’re not having sex while you’re staying here. That’s too much like boyfriends. You don’t need to help with the groceries, not unless you want something majorly expensive, but those are the rules: No bringing anyone over, you have to stay away if I find someone I want to bring over, and you sleep on the couch.”

“Fine,” Connor grumbles.

They finish breakfast, get dressed, and then, Connor pulls him in for a long, deep kiss.

When it breaks, before he can get any words out, Connor’s grinning. “Didn’t say anything about kissing.”

…

He could find someone on a dating app.

He could get a hotel room until-

No.

This is the problem with having no-strings attached sex with a hot guy who likes to covertly wrap strings around people when he needs or wants something.

When they first met, he didn’t have many objections to handing over the information. The plaintiff was a terrible person, and if it got him a little more flirting from the handsome banker (in his defence, Connor definitely looked the part back then) who’d bought him a drink, his conscience wouldn’t bother him too much over it.

It turned out Connor wanted sex, too, and he definitely wasn’t going to turn that down.

Except, then, Connor just kept coming around, and he’s half-sure Connor is waiting for a time when Connor has some major, big, potentially life-altering favour to call in.

The other half of him thinks Connor is simply telling the truth. The guy with HIV can never fully fit the definition of ‘safe’, but he usually gives Connor whatever Connor wants when it comes to sex, he’s never asked for anything extreme, he lets Connor stay after if Connor wants to, and his apartment is fairly clean, pet-free, and temperature-controlled.

He goes home, and Connor is sitting outside.

Looking up from his laptop, Connor smiles. “Hey. I have to do an ungodly amount of paperwork, but I thought, after dinner, we could watch this crappy horror movie about the dark web I borrowed from Waitlist’s girlfriend. I can make a list of all the legal inaccuracies, you can explain in detail all the ways it screws up how computers and the internet works, and whichever of us has the biggest list gets to pick what we watch tomorrow.”

“I know nothing about law, and you have a depressingly basic understanding of how computers work. What would stop either of us from making up things to pad out our lists?”

Laughing, Connor follows him in. “Citations?” Before he can respond, Connor continues, “Yeah, that wouldn’t work. Okay, how about this: We watch the movie, and we each make an argument on whether having more legal or IT knowledge would have been beneficial if not for the fact the characters are in a crappy horror movie. Whichever is more persuasive gets to pick.”

This won’t go well for him, he’s going to be stuck watching some Russian period piece again, but even knowing this, it does sound like fun.

“Alright,” he agrees.

…

It always surprises him how much of a cuddle bug (Connor probably could get away with murdering him, and therefore, he’s careful never to apply this term aloud) Connor can be out of bed.

Part of him is tempted to ask if this is Connor’s strategy to distract him, but aside from when he was sick, Connor has always plastered himself all over him whenever they watch movies.

“Oh, come on,” Connor mutters. “I’ve met idiot criminals who couldn’t manage to get themselves into such a mess if they actively tried.”

“Well, they are teenagers,” he points out.

“Teenage me couldn’t be so stupid if I’d tried,” is the unimpressed response.

“Yeah, I think I can safely say, even if I’d been as ignorant about coding as them, even I wouldn’t have gotten into such a bizarre, horrible situation.”

“A good prosecutor would have had them up on felony charges, charged as adults, based on the first fifteen minutes, and no IT whiz like you would have been needed to make most of those charges stick.”

“Fine. You can pick the movie. I think my list would actually be longer, but the degree they screwed up legally definitely trumps how bad the movie is at everything computer-related.”

Shifting, Connor looks at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Seriously.”

“We could make it more interesting.”

“You’re still staying on the couch.”

“Technically, sleeping in the same bed-”

“It would with you. Lead to sex. And that is and isn’t a big part of this. Mentally, I have things and people divided in my head. We’re not boyfriends, and I have to remember that.”

“What if we wer-”

“No. I’ve made questionable choices in sexual partners.” He can’t help the bitter sound that comes out of him. “Yeah, I know, that’s the understatement of the century. But I have a decent track record with boyfriends.”

“And I don’t fit your criteria?”

“Is it criteria or criterion in this case?”

“Ollie.”

He hates how Connor is looking at him, and he’s not even sure why.

“It doesn’t say anything bad about you, but no.”

…

He doesn’t sleep well.

He can vaguely hear Connor, but Connor isn’t loud or obtrusive in a way that would bother any reasonable person who isn’t dealing with a sudden mess of complicated emotions.

In the morning, he tosses Connor a key. “Here. Just, seriously, please, don’t bring anyone else here. Barring emergencies, I guess, but you wanting to have sex with some hot guy does not-”

“I got it. I promise.” Connor catches his eye. “Thanks, Oliver.”

…

Connor is sprawled out on the couch when he gets home. “I was thinking: What if we went out to dinner tonight? I have a friend who can hook us up at Moretti’s.”

“A friend?”

“My sister has a girlfriend living here.”

He knows Connor has divorced parents, an older sister, and an adorable niece and nephew. “Your sister, uh, when you say girlfriend-”

“Just a friend. Gemma is straight, and her husband is- fine. Boring, but he takes good care of her and the kids.”

“Sorry, but I have a project I’m working on. I’m not even going to be able to cook tonight.”

“Okay. Well, I should get some more studying in, anyways. Why don’t we microwave TV dinners and eat together later?”

“If you want to wait that long, but you don’t need to. Look, I know I can be- what I’m trying to say is, aside from you throwing a party or bringing a guy over for sex, I want you to make yourself at home.”

“I know.” Connor gives him a small smile. “Don’t worry. I appreciate you letting me stay, Ollie.”

This probably wouldn’t be the best time to ask how long it’s going to take for Connor’s apartment to reopen.

“I’m going to go work in my bedroom. Let me know if you need anything.”

…

He’s almost got everything wrapped up when there’s a knock on the door.

“You expecting someone, Ollie?” Connor calls.

“No.” He comes out.

Looking through the peephole, Connor sighs. “Crap. I’m sorry about this.”

His brewing irritation disappears when Connor opens the door to a woman he’s willing to bet is Connor’s classmate, Laurel.

“Hey, I’m sorry to intrude,” waving, she gives him an apologetic smile, “but, Connor, you left your phone at Professor Keating’s.”

“How could you forget your phone? That’s majorly unsafe! Literally, how did you not notice? I could-”

Oh, crap. Now, Connor’s classmates are going to know that one of Connor’s hook-ups is awkward and potentially legit crazy.

“Laurel, this is Oliver Hampton, who isn’t my boyfriend but is letting me stay while the gas leak at my apartment is sorted out. Oliver, this is Laurel Castillo, one of the Keating 5.”

Something about Connor’s tone is off, but he isn’t sure what.

“There was a gas leak at your apartment? Why didn’t you tell us?” Then, her expression shifts. “I mean, sorry, I’m glad you’re okay. Here.”

Connor takes the phone. “How did you even find me?”

“Oh, I tracked your laptop from your phone. I wasn’t sure how else-”

“Please, tell me you have hacking skills and that you weren’t able to just do this, because, Connor still doesn’t have a freaking passcode on his phone.”

“Oliver, don’t start.”

“No, um, I really don’t want to get involved in anything, but you should listen to your- to Oliver, Connor. I promise I didn’t go through your phone, and I kept it safe from Michaela, but tracking your laptop was incredibly easy due to the lack of any security whatsoever.”

“Time to leave,” Connor declares. “Laurel, thank you. I’ll buy you a latte or something tomorrow.”

Before he can protest, Connor has gotten Laurel to leave.

Going over to the couch, he takes the phone from Connor. “I don’t get how or why you have a crappy flip phone or why you don’t have any security on it.”

“I don’t keep anything worth hiding on my phone.”

“Your classmate, who I’m hoping isn’t secretly a serial killer, though, she actually seemed really nice, tracked your laptop to your location.”

“So, I should probably delete that app or un-synch them-” When he looks over, Connor lets out a small sound. “I didn’t realise that was possible. What I mean is, yes, I know it’s possible to track laptops via phone, but I didn’t realise that was even set-up on my phone.”

He hands the phone back. “Gemma. You can change it, in fact, you should, it’s not that secure, but it’s better than nothing. And you didn’t have that set up. Laurel did it about thirty minutes ago. Not a hacker, probably, but I’d still advise you to be careful with your phone and laptop around her.”

Taking a breath, he continues, “So, is there even a gas leak?”

“There was. A few days ago. It only took about fifteen minutes to contain.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I used to have a smartphone. It got me into trouble.”

He leans back into the couch. “Like you managed to catch a virus? Or-?”

Connor is now clutching a pillow. “You asked me what the worst thing I ever did was, and I laughed and distracted you.”

“Yeah, I remember.” He has to admit, that had been one hell of a distraction.

“Suicide. I didn’t mean to, I swear to you, Oliver, but I played a part in someone committing suicide.”

This isn’t exactly a surprise, is the thing. People like Connor go through life, at best, simply ignoring people who don’t meet certain standards or aren’t useful, and at worst, they tear people down. Somewhere in between is using people.

“Do you want to- you can tell me what happened.”

“A client of Annalise’s was being framed by some of her employees. We needed to find out who they were. I had a suspicion it was this guy. His, uh, his name was Paxton. So, I hooked up with him, partly because, he was hot, and partly so that I could get a recorder in place. Turned out-”

Hoping it’ll help, he puts his hand on Connor’s shuddering arm.

“I was right. It was him and some other employees. The client confronted him, and no one, or at least, I didn’t, thought about the fact this happened near a window. Until- we were up on an ungodly high floor.”

He considers his words. “I’m sorry for him. And you. That was an extreme reaction. I don’t think most people’s mind would have gone there, but I guess, people facing prison aren’t always- Um, wait. Have you been- are you worried about me doing something like that? Because, trust me, you really shouldn’t be. You’re not all that, Connor, and I would never do something like that to my mom. Okay, even when I got my diagnosis, which was the worst thing to ever happen to me, I didn’t even consider-”

Connor kisses him.

“No, Ollie. Look, I like you. After Pax, I decided to change some things about my life.”

“And it didn’t stick or seducing people to get things wasn’t part of it?”

“There isn’t a good way to answer that.”

Wonderful, is his sour thought. Taking a breath, however, he lets the feeling go. “Just tell me the truth. I haven’t kicked you out so far.”

“You were a- backslide? I was going to pay you. That came out- My plan was bribery with money. I still have some money saved from the last time my dad and Gemma bribed me to spend New Year’s week with him and his other family.”

“And the plan changed?”

“The plan changed,” Connor confirms. “I just liked you, Oliver. I wanted both. You and the information. And that’s what I still want. I like watching movies, even crappy ones with mind-numbingly sappy plots, with you. I like trivia night and your bizarre fear of a teenage girl who, even if she does have the body strength to take a chair to my car, and I’m not convinced she does, we can just distract her with a brownie or some candy, get my car repainted, and park in a different spot.”

“You debate her on Roe v Wade, but you still seem to genuinely think little kid handling would work on her.”

“Because it hasn’t already?”

Admittedly, Connor has a point.

“And I like it when we go out together. I don’t know what you’re looking for in a boyfriend, Oliver, but I think I could be it.”

“No, you- it’s not good for people to try to change themselves for others.”

Rubbing his face, Connor leans back, and their shoulders brush. “I was already working on changing myself before I met you. I don’t want to be a boring, in bed by nine, has sex once in a blue moon kind of guy. But I do want to find someone special to have fun with, to be able to talk to and listen to about important things. And,” Connor bumps against him, “I think you could be that someone and I could be the same for you.”

If it weren’t for the fact he’s a little bit in love with Connor, he wouldn’t hate Connor so much.

“Okay, look, I have HIV.”

“And we always use condoms, I’m on PrEP, and I always show you my test results when they come in.”

“What if, one day, they come in positive?”

“Then, we’ll- I’ll deal with it then. It’s always a risk, Oliver. Some straight, white men majorly mishandled things in the 80s, and now, it’s always a risk. For everyone. It’s rare, but tainted blood transfusions still happen. Rape, unfortunately, is still a thing that exists. I try my best to be responsible, and I hope I never get it, but if I do, I’m going to be pissed at those lawmakers and some of the doctors that could have prevented the HIV/AIDs epidemic if they hadn’t been creaming themselves over the gays all dying out.”

It’s not this simple.

He believes, right now, it’s this simple to Connor, but if Connor does get sick-

In the moment, Connor’s good at making him forget these fears, but every time, there’s some guilt afterwards.

Plenty of people would tell him this isn’t a good reason to deny himself a happy relationship. He’d tell someone positive the same thing even back when he was negative, that being careful and responsible is the most anyone can or should be asked to do.

“Monogamy, exclusivity, it’s important to me. Not when I’m- I don’t have any right to ask or expect that of you. But it’s important when it comes to boyfriends. I’m not going to stay with someone who cheats.”

“I can be good, Ollie. Faithful. I’m not saying I’ll never flirt with someone when we’re out together, although, I will try, but if you’ll trust me, you won’t regret it. It’ll only be you.”

“I don’t- there are types of flirting I don’t mind. You’re a flirter. It’s the type of person you are. At least, when it comes to guys. I’d appreciate it, though, if you didn’t give the impression that you really would be up for sex if not for your boyfriend. Even if that’s true, I still-”

“I need to work on taking better care of my phone, and you need to work on your self-esteem. Fortunately,” Connor toys with his tie, “if you’re the boyfriend in that statement, I could start helping right now. I’m really up for sex, Oliver, with my incredibly hot, smart boyfriend. And I’m even more up for sleeping in his bed tonight and having space in his closet.”

Don’t, part of him warns.

But he really wants to.

“If you wanted, my electric toothbrush, it came with two heads, and I’ve never used the other one. They’re the same colour, but we could put a sticky dot or maybe paint the unused one.”

Connor’s smile is beautiful. “Tell me, does that mean we’re officially boyfriends? Or do I need to up my game even more?”

“Yeah. I’m willing to give it a try.”

Meeting Connor for a kiss, he mentally shoves all the doubts away.

Maybe, this could work.

Maybe, doing this will be the best thing he ever did, not one of the biggest heartbreaks he’ll have to get over.


End file.
